Morning Coffee Read: SMUT in the A.M.!

August 24, 2012 | Christelyn Karazin |

Okay ladies and gents, this is some juicy stuff from my Facebook friend, author, Tiana Laveen. Her erotica book, “When Saint Goes Marching In,” should probably be read in the company of your boo, because you’ll be needing him later, if you get my meaning.

WARNING – This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

It is six years later and Saint and Xenia have two beautiful sons and are enjoying their lives in sunny California. Having started a new leg of his career, Saint takes on innovative responsibilities, relishing the excitement of his job-from wealthy Rainbeau men hiring him for sexual assistance with their wives, to planning to snare a prolific, insane, and hate-filled killer on the loose. Still doing conferences, Saint is distracted by recent harassment and tortures that target Rainbeau men and their spouses in a small town in Missouri. Asked by the White Knights of the Round Table to assist in the troubling case, Saint uses his mental agility and psychic abilities to help capture the man responsible and bring him to justice. Just when he thinks the drama is over, another predicament arises in the form of Saint’s sultry ex-girlfriend who has an axe to grind. She is a blast from his past but she won’t disappear without wreaking havoc. As their lives unfold, revenge is served to Saint in a manner that is of nightmarish proportions, demolishing his personal life irreparably. Saint is forced into a new life that becomes an emotional roller coaster as he chases a serial killer while simultaneously trying to regain the love and trust of his soulmate. Will Saint be able to outsmart a sociopath? Will Xenia and Saint survive this true test of their union? March with Saint and come find out.

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EXCERPT FROM, “When Saint Goes Marching In”

“You’re going too fast,” Saint said as he leaned lazily against the doorframe, and intermittently stared down at his crystal and black onyx Rolex.

The rustling of the thick, cream, fifteen-hundred count sheets began again. Tom peered over his pale, freckled shoulder at Saint. Sweat covered his face as strands of long, dark brown hair dripped with perspiration. He panted, out of breath, swallowed his saliva and gave himself a minute to recuperate after briefly closing his bright blue eyes. Saint walked casually over to the bed and handed him the glass of ice water that sat on his antique, walnut, gold-accented nightstand.

Cree rolled her eyes as her head fell back on the pillow, guilt seizing her whole. Her tiny, slick, dark brown curls framed her heart-shaped face, accentuating her large dark brown eyes and small, but pouty lips. She reminded Saint of an angelic Kewpie Doll.

Tom lowered his head. “I knew this would be awkward,” he looked back over at Saint. “But we called you here for a reason.”

Saint nodded and walked back over to their bed. He looked down at them and cocked his head to the side as he rubbed his chin and deliberated.

“This doesn’t look comfortable. Cree, I want you to completely let go of Tom. Tom withdraw from her and stand next to me.”

Tom rose from his wife, pulled out of her and hesitantly stood next to Saint. He wiped the sweat off his face with his arm as he waited for Saint’s next set of instructions. Saint looked down at Cree’s thin body. He looked at her lips, her long, graceful neck with the black leather choker adorning it, her small, perky breasts and narrow hips. Saint’s eyes took notice of her clean shaven pubic area and her long, shapely legs and feet, toenails painted bright pink.

“Tom, look at your wife.” Saint instructed. “Look at her lips. Look at how beautiful they are. They are a natural, dark plum color, and look at how their shaped. Look at her eyes, dreamy even when she isn’t trying. She has a beautiful neck. Pay attention to all the parts of her that have nothing to do with her breasts, butt and vagina. You want to focus on those things first, especially since you called me because you and she are having problems in the bedroom. She isn’t having orgasms, which makes you dissatisfied. If the Queen isn’t happy, Tom, then no one is happy.”

Tom nodded in agreement.

Saint unwrapped the brand new dildo he brought with him. He instructed Tom to sit in between Cree’s shaking legs. Saint put his knee on the bed and leaned forward.

“You’re nervous?” Saint asked, his eyebrow slightly raised.

Cree nodded.

“No need to be. Just pretend like I’m not here, like I’m just a recording. Tom, listen to me very closely.” Saint peered into Tom’s eyes. “Slowly place the tip of the dildo on her vulva, not inside her vagina, just right outside the entrance.”

Tom opened Cree’s legs further and did as Saint instructed.

“You need to tease her. When it’s time for penetration, tease her. Don’t just stick it straight in all the time. You want to vary the performances. Make it exciting. Quickies are OK at times; sometimes that may be all you have time for, especially with your busy schedule as a surgeon and Cree’s modeling career, but it shouldn’t be like that all the time and your partner should never be sure what you’re going to do, each and every time you make love to her.” Saint looked at Tom then back down at Cree’s moist opening. “See that? The more you tease, the more excited she gets. Watch her facial expressions closely. Watch her skin change color. Pay attention to her breathing, it’s accelerating. Look at her toes curl, look at her nipples, they’re hard now and you didn’t touch them. Those are all signs of sexual excitement.”

Cree’s eyes were closed and she bit her bottom lip. “Keep bumping the head of the dildo against her vaginal lips. Rub it up and down, up and down, play with her clit while you do it. There are all sorts of things you can do before you go inside. You want her practically begging for it,” Saint said. “Now insert the dildo inside Cree.” Tom did, making her moan and gurgle. “Go slow. Make her desire to feel it, make her want it. Save the hammering for the end.” Saint watched Tom move the dildo in and out of his wife, rotated it, twisted it around in circles.

“But she usually tells me to do it harder. That’s why I’m confused,” Tom said weakly.

“She’s telling you to do it harder so early, Tom, because you didn’t warm her up well enough first, so she’s trying to figure out what would make her more excited. She’s overcompensating. You noticed that after you do it harder, she still isn’t achieving an orgasm so it’s not working, is it? You need to go down on her longer, too. I timed you. It was only about four minutes. That’s not long enough. It should be at least double that, at the very least,” Saint explained as Tom continued to move the dildo in and out of Cree slowly. “And it’s not just about timing, it’s about quality, too. Your technique is OK but I’ve included my Oral Sex Tips pamphlet for you to go over later,” Saint said as he tapped a thoughtful finger on his lips.

“Vary how you move inside her. You’re in pretty good shape, Tom, so you should be able to practice and keep up. Follow the steps on the DVD I brought for you today but you want to move your hips and waist around more. Don’t just go in and out and that’s it. She has hundreds of nerve endings inside there. Mix it up. Twist inside, do circles, rise up and hit her clit with each thrust. Vary your speeds throughout the entire process. If she is getting very aroused, go slower. Pay attention to her signals. If her face is expressionless and she’s not saying anything, then she isn’t enjoying it. Ask her if she likes it.” Saint shifted his attention to the woman. “Cree, you need to start being honest with Tom. He can’t read your mind. Say what you want. If you don’t like something, speak up. If you want more of something else he cheated you on, say so. This is your marriage, this is your sex life, it’s important that you both communicate effectively. This won’t work unless you encourage each other and talk.”

Saint pointed to the dildo. “Now, I want you to keep using that on her. Don’t use your penis because you’ll do what you’ve been doing, pounding her and coming too fast. Use this on her for at least five minutes first.”

Tom nodded and dutifully moved the dildo in and out of Cree. Saint suppressed a pending yawn and snuck a look at his watch again.

“You see the difference in how she responds?” Saint asked as he walked closer but still keeping a safe distance.

“Yes,” Tom said as he stared intensely at his Queen, watching her body quake as he moved the dildo around slowly.

“Now take it out of her and put your dick back inside her, and move it the same way.” Saint slid a piece of gum out of his pocket, quickly unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. He leisurely walked back up to the bed and stood behind Tom. “Slow down. That’s much better. Move so slow you almost feel like you’re not moving at all.” Saint instructed. “And really, unless it’s anal sex, you shouldn’t need any lube, or very little of it. And that should only be if intercourse has been going on for a while. That’s the first thing that should let you know she isn’t warmed up enough. Unless she has a medical condition that causes dryness, she’s not excited enough for intercourse yet. You were buying so much KY jelly you should’ve bought stock in that shit.” Saint stifled his laughter as he recalled the inside of Tom’s nightstand drawer. Four large, half full bottles of various varieties of lubricants were inside. “A woman’s body will tell you a lot of what you need to know, if you take the time to watch it and feel what it’s doing.”

Tom slowed his movements and did as he was taught.

“Now stop right there, lift yourself up about five inches, just leave a little bit in, the very tip. Good, now move down, twist all the way back inside, about ninety degrees to the left then switch sides on your next thrust. It’s like a dance, Tom. You need to have rhythm. Hit those walls while moving your hips, brush up against her clitoris every time you push all the way inside, back up, twist, rise up, go back, hit that clit, repeat. Now, every two or three thrusts, go deep down and low, touch that G-Spot by angling your body. Yes, just like that.” Saint pushed his gum to the far left side of his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest. “Perfect, you got it man.”

Tom’s face lit up as Cree dug her fingernails in the sheets while her orgasm, the first in over six months, began to work its way up her spine and down to her pulsating pussy.

“She’s getting ready to come,” Saint said as he observed her from the corner of his eye. “Now you want to hit her clit more. The next thrusts, push into her clit harder and faster – her body will tell you when to speed up. The woman is always in the lead, regardless if the man is on top or not. We have to follow her lead when we are trying to give her an orgasm. If she speeds up, you speed up, but just a little – you always want to maintain what you’re doing to get her going in the first place until she tells you to move faster or you know her well enough sexually to sense what she wants. If she slows down, you slow down, just a little, even if you don’t want to. If it’s cumbersome, use your hand to rub her clit but get to it, and get to it quickly.”

Tom eagerly executed Saint’s instructions. Saint popped his gum and gazed briefly out the window. He looked back at Cree, watched her expression as that “O face” took over. She screamed out as she lost complete control. “Tom, don’t stop. Keep moving, this is the time to move faster, how you like it, do it now!” Saint yelled. Tom thrust deeply in and out of Cree, smacking into her with all his might.

“Tom, don’t come,” Saint warned sternly as he watched Tom’s eyes roll in the back of his head. “Practice self-control. Concentrate on her pleasure. Just because you feel it bubbling up, doesn’t mean it’s too late yet. Redirect, slow down a bit if you have to, but don’t stop moving. Think of something else if need be. In your case, turn away from her. You’re getting excited by seeing her like that but it’s going to make you come too fast again.

“It’s the noise, too!” Tom pressed his eyes firmly closed. “It’s how she sounds, the moans.”

“I understand but you’ll have to get through it. Let her go first. Ladies first. It takes them longer than us to come and many men need a longer period of time in between erections. Never stop completely, it could mess up the intensity of her orgasm.” Tom looked away from Cree as she visibly quaked, panted and moaned. The orgasm hit her hard. “That was vaginal and clitoral. That is what you’re aiming for. You want her to have both, preferably at the same time or back to back with little space in between. OK, once she is at the end of her orgasm, then you can go, Tom.”

Tom began to thrust quickly in and out of his wife again, eager to climax. Soon, he shook violently, his suppressed orgasm finally out of the gate. “Now even your orgasm was better because of the build-up. It was more powerful and that is why waiting is not just helpful to the woman, but to you as well. Also, if she likes how you sound when you come, lower your face close to her ear so she can hear you make those noises that turn her on, too.”

Tom and Cree smiled and kissed one another as his orgasm subsided. Saint sat down and waited for Tom and Cree to get dressed.

“Dr. Aknaten, thank you so much for coming out and helping my wife and I,” Tom said as he looked at Saint with appreciation. “We know how busy you are and we were so happy to hear that you were willing to make a house call, like you said you used to do in New York.”

“Well, I’ve been working with you and Cree for a while on the phone; it was time for a bedroom visit. I appreciate you asking me for help and for understanding the importance of being able to please your Goddess. If you have any questions, give me a call or email me. I’m sorry but I do need to get going.” Saint stood up from his chair and made his way towards the bedroom door.

“Wait! Let me write out your check,” Tom said as he got ready to leave the bedroom.

“You can give it to me later; I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“Your check will be in the mail then. You can come to my office tomorrow and pick it up if you wish.”

“No problem.” Saint bent down and whispered in Tom’s ear. “If you want another round, right after I leave would be a great time. Trust me, she’s ready. She’ll come again, stronger.”

Tom nodded excitedly, smiled and patted Saint on the back. “Will do. I better get to it then. Thank you, Saint. I sure wish you still had your private practice. You’ve helped us so much it saddens me that your work schedule is now so busy I may not be able to get any counseling like this for a long while.”

Saint opened the front door to the expansive mansion. “Duty calls and with the new projects I have there just isn’t any time at all. You know how my schedule is and of course your secret is safe with me. I would never tell the brothers that I am working with you and Cree. Besides, it may be seen as a sign of disrespect since I’ve seen her without clothing. You know our creed, our rules. Some people still don’t understand that when I’m in doctor mode, it’s strictly professional. There is no sexual arousal going on. Anyway, one day, when I’m older, I’ll get back to the private practice but for now, we have too much work to do.”

The men said their final goodbyes. Saint walked briskly to his silver Lamborghini and hopped inside. He hit the Bluetooth button on his car dashboard and sped down the street.

“James, I will be approximately twelve minutes late for today’s meeting. I apologize. I had a…meeting and we ran a bit over on time,” Saint explained as he made his way to the downtown L.A. office building.

“You’re never late so I’ll excuse this. Thank you for letting me know. Get here as soon as you can. Your seat will be waiting.” James hung up the phone. By now, the White Knights of the Round Table would have begun to gather in the conference room at their new headquarters.

Saint pressed another button and waited as the phone rang.

“Hello,” Xenia said, while the sounds of their youngest child whining in the background muffled her voice.

“Baby, it’s me. What’s going on?” Saint asked while he switched gears on the stick shift as he approached a red light.

“Nothing, just me and the boys in a three-ring circus. They are running wild,” Xenia laughed. “I’m supposed to do an interview tonight though. You promised to be home by eight.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to make good on that. How are my little princes doing? Did Hassani get his room cleaned up? I told him to pick those toys up this morning,” Saint said sternly.

“Saint, he’s only four, for goodness sake.”

“Four and a half, as he is always quick to remind us,” Saint corrected.

“He did the best he could, I suppose.”

Saint envisioned Xenia’s smile and could picture her walking to the kitchen, carrying their son Dakarai on her hip. The sound of his baby boy’s voice reached him through the line, happy and bubbly.

“You’re too soft on him, Xenia.” Saint got onto the expressway. “He’s going to walk all over you when he gets older. I’m tired of playing good cop bad cop with him. He knows what he’s doing, trust me.”

Xenia laughed. “Yeah, because he is just like you. You have it in for him, I swear.”

“He is just like me, a carbon copy. That’s how I know what he’s up to. You know what I’m saying, Xenia.” Saint’s thoughts briefly drifted to the fact that Hassani was conceived on the very day that his parents were scheduled to die.

“I know, Saint. That is why I baby him so much.” She hesitated. “He’s different. I don’t want him to feel awkward. You had such a hard time with it, especially as a little kid. I’m his mother. If he can’t feel OK with me, then who can he trust?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Of course I want him to be a regular kid, but he isn’t like everyone else and I’m not saying don’t love or protect him; it’s just that he can get into a lot of trouble. He is still too young for me to talk to him about what is going on because he wouldn’t understand no matter how I tried to explain it but he is already having the dreams and telling us things that come to fruition only days, sometimes hours, later.” Saint sighed. “It’s happening and I’m not going to let him struggle with it, the way I did. I have to keep him safe, from his own self.” Saint paused, his brows knit in a frown. “Anyway, what’s Dakarai doing?” He smiled as he thought about Dakarai saying, “Dada, I lub you.” a couple of days prior. “I miss my boys,” he added sorrowfully.

“Dakarai is just sitting here smiling, waiting for his orange slices. You know he likes to keep his routine,” Xenia teased.

“Yeah, and I wonder where he got that from?” Saint asked sarcastically. Dakarai also favored Saint physically, but his personality was more like Xenia’s. Slightly lighter than his older brother, they looked like stair-step twins.

Xenia laughed. “Baby, I think actually you’re doing a great job. You beat yourself up all the time but you’ve cancelled and postponed so many engagements. You are here for all the doctor appointments. You come home from a hard day and immediately start to play with them and jump in to give me a break. They couldn’t ask for a better dad, honey, so please don’t be mad at yourself.”

“Thank you, baby. I appreciate that. I still wish I could spend more time with them though. I feel like we’re all being robbed. What about you? Is there something I’m not taking care of that I should? I know you’re tired. I’m actually surprised that you’re still doing the interview tonight.”

“No babe, you’re fine. I have to do this interview, though. If I’m going to go ahead and have my own show again, this is a great start. I’m just honored that Queen Latifah wanted me to do it. She asked for me, specifically. I was just thrilled!”

Saint smiled. “I know you were baby, and you deserve this. You’re a great mother. Hassani and Dakarai couldn’t ask for better and you’ve been home all this time with them. It’s time you start transitioning back into doing what you enjoy so much, your career. I understand, really I do.”

“If I need to though, I can call my mom again and ask her to come over.”

“Just call her as back-up, in case I’m a few minutes late,” Saint said with hesitation.

“Saint, I knew it!” Xenia hollered. “I know you plan to be late! What if I hadn’t said anything?”

“Then I guess I’d be in the dog house again. Baby, I’m sorry. I’m really going to try to be there on time, I promise. I love you, baby,” Saint added, trying to soothe the wounds he had caused by excessive tardiness as of late due to work obligations.

Xenia sighed. “I love you too, Saint,” she said weakly. “You’re still in trouble though.”

“After your interview tonight, I have a surprise for you.”

“What kind of a surprise?” she asked, her voice perking up.

“I think you know what I’m talking about, and of course it has an added twist.” Saint smiled devilishly. “Oh yes, baby, I can’t wait. I picked up a little something for you to wear. Of course, the crotch is cut out for me to have easy access. Whew shit, I can’t wait,” he laughed.

“That’s a surprise for you then!” Xenia laughed. “You ain’t slick. Oh that reminds me, how did the session with Cree and Tom go? Saint, that is so weird,” she sighed. “I know you told me about this when we first met, about these house calls you sometimes do but I couldn’t imagine having someone standing there while you and I are making love, giving pointers. That would be so damn uncomfortable,” Xenia cracked up.

Saint smiled. “You’d be surprised, actually. Everyone is nervous at first but then they tend to relax, especially with how much they have to pay, they better relax. Time is money!” he laughed. “It went well though. I think they’ll be fine for a while. Cree doesn’t speak up enough and Tom has been watching too many hardcore pornos. Well baby, I have to go. I just pulled up to the office.”

“OK. Saint, I love you,” Xenia said wistfully.

“I love you too, baby. I’ll be home soon and I promise you, when I get done with you tonight, you’ll sleep for five days straight,” Saint teased before he hung up the phone.

He exhaled noisily as he looked up at the large fifteen floor, modern building with light blue glass mirror windows. From the outside, it looked just like an office building, and on paperwork for the IRS, it was listed as a small independent accounting and banking firm. It in fact was, from outward appearances. People could in reality do their banking, update their portfolios, talk to seasoned, international world trade advisors and get personal counseling from stock mentors here. But under the surface, behind the mask, was the lair of the White Knights of the Round Table. It had been years in the making, but finally, they no longer had to meet at hotels under disguised names. Now, they were able to conduct business still under a cloak of secrecy, but also out in the open.

Saint parked up front, next to a black Benz, white BMW and a red and blue Harley. He got out of his car, put on his Ray-Ban tech carbon filter sunglasses and headed towards the front revolving door. As soon as he entered, the greetings began. The seemingly normal bank lobby with braided, velvet red ropes and shiny gold pedestals welcomed him. An array of tellers, dressed in crisp white shirts and tailored pinstriped black pants, looked up and smiled, nodded, cut their eyes and turned away slyly.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Aknaten,” many said in unison.

Saint nodded as he swiftly made his way closer to the elevator. A short, curvaceous African-American woman with big green eyes approached him, handing him a latte.

“It’s just how you like it,” Erin said with a huge smile.

Saint took it from her. “Erin, you know I don’t drink coffee. I swear you are trying to get me hooked on these lattes,” he grinned as he put it up to his lips, the hot sweet liquid with the whipped cream topping leaving a small dollop of creaminess on his upper lip. He licked it away and nodded at her. Erin smiled wider as she saw he enjoyed it.

“I know, but you liked the last one so much I figured, what the heck!”

She waved as he disappeared behind the closing silver elevator doors.

Saint stood erect, holding his hot beverage in one hand and his laptop bag under his arm. The slow music relaxed him as he reached the top floor. The elevator stopped on the fifteenth floor and a red light flashed, prompting him to put in his access code before entering. He leaned over and quickly punched in his seven digits, placed his hand up to the scanner for identification and heard the familiar computerized voice greeting, “Welcome, Dr. Saint Aknaten.”

The doors opened, exposing an area that looked like something from a futuristic sci-fi movie. Saint stepped out and nodded to the men who sat on a long, sleek black leather couch with their laptops and cell phones open and ready for use. The rounded, tinted glass walls allowed brilliant light into the area without causing too much of a glare. Saint’s feet sunk into the high grade, light gray carpet as he approached his office. Several East Indian men talked in their native tongue as he rounded the final corner.

“Hello, Dr. Aknaten,” one of them said in a thick accent.

“Good afternoon, Ratash. Good afternoon, Tamal and Yajnesh.”

The other two men waved and smiled. “Good afternoon, Dr. Aknaten.”

Saint opened his office door and quickly made his way to his heated, black leather chair surrounded by a clear, half-moon shaped desk. Out of his window, directly behind his desk, he could see the highway. At night, it electrified him with all of the bright lights, usually red from bumper to bumper traffic during rush hour.

Saint paced the floor as he gathered his thoughts. It was his typical routine before he would speak. He looked briefly down at his desk, admiring the gold framed picture of his Queen and his two Princes. The smell of the nag champa incense still filled the room from the previous day. After a few minutes, he unzipped his bag and retrieved his laptop. He removed his sunglasses and left his office to go to the large conference room with its large black double doors. He entered to find James and his constituents engaged in small talk. “Excuse me gentlemen for my tardiness. I deeply apologize for being late. Thank you for waiting for me,” Saint said humbly as his heavy footsteps clapped against the floor.

Everyone nodded as James stood up. Saint took a seat right next to him.

“Gentlemen, we can begin now. I called this meeting because of the dire situation going on in Missouri that I brought up to you all yesterday. Mr. Richard Clayman was brutally attacked. His wife was tied up and sexually assaulted. This seemed like a remote situation until similar crimes in surrounding areas also took place. All that is known is that the perpetrator seems to work alone. He is a white male, approximately 5’9” and 180-190 pounds. He wore a mask, but his eyes and the skin surrounding them prove his race. Everyone that he has targeted has been a white man married to or dating a Black woman. The police refuse to acknowledge the racial connection, saying it is random.”

There were sighs from the men as they shook their heads in disbelief.

Saint immediately zoomed in on the photo James brought up on the large screen. It was a picture of Mr. Clayman.

Saint drummed his fingers on his thigh, itching to blurt out what he felt deep within. “He knows this man,” he observed. “The person doing this is befriending these people in some way first. He isn’t just running in. These are premeditated. He has killed several people.” Saint kept staring at Mr. Clayman’s picture. “We are dealing with a serial killer who targets white men with Black women. His victim is lucky to even still be alive, as well as his Queen.” Saint clenched his teeth as quick, blurry flashes of the bloody assaults ran through his mind.

“We also need to offer more asylum to young Rainbeau men who are being harassed. I have been reading stories daily from men as young as fourteen being tormented by their family, friends and strangers for dating a Black girl. Some have even been kicked out of their homes, hospitalized and have nowhere to go because they won’t relinquish the relationship,” James digressed. He rubbed his forehead and winced. Saint figured that a painful migraine and exhaustion consumed his friend. “There’s just so much to discuss, and this is so upsetting, I really don’t even know where to begin.” James closed his eyes, his face a tense mask.

Saint stood up and slowly approached James, ushering him to his seat. “James, I’ll take over. I reviewed what you sent me.”

James nodded as he slumped down in his chair. Saint made his way back up to the front of the room and stood there, surveying the crowd of neatly dressed men.

“Guys, here is what is in James’ plan.” Saint caught the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and bit on his bottom lip as he looked down at a piece of paper on the podium. “He wants to build a center for Rainbeau men and their Queens that need protection and a place to stay. The center would not be here. We have less of a problem here with these sort of crimes so he wants to place one in the Midwest and one in the south. We’d pay their airfare if they aren’t local and have them start a new life. They’d get a ninety day stay which would include a room with a bed, desk and dresser, three meals a day and counseling. There would be a library for each facility that would have computers, reference books, fax machines and your typical items needed for correspondence and business matters.”

“How does our program fit into this? Such as conferences?” Davis asked, a retired firefighter that now worked with building codes.

“There are strict criteria. The Rainbeau would also have to participate in a conference since they still aren’t co-ed.”

Davis and James shook their head in understanding.

Saint smiled and looked out into the audience of men. “I think this is a fantastic idea. I could have really used a place like this when I was younger. It’s not that my father so much disapproved of my lifestyle regarding my dating preference, but he often kicked me out of the house after my mother passed away and one of the core reasons was because of my behavior, partially due to this drive in me. I wasn’t accepted everywhere and I didn’t get much support at home. My father didn’t hinder, but he also didn’t help. He couldn’t understand it even though he himself had dated mostly interracial his entire adult life. It wasn’t Black women though, so that territory was foreign to him. So, while I was trying to go out with some Black girl I had a crush on, I would break his rules for curfew. I didn’t feel comfortable bringing them back to my house because he…” Saint sighed and looked down briefly. “It doesn’t matter. He just never really made a welcoming environment. We’d subsequently argue and it just became a situation where I was more out of the house than in it. Luckily, my best friend’s mother allowed me to live with them several times, but I could have been homeless, out on the streets. There is no telling what would have happened to me out there. I grew up in a rough area and I know that I probably would’ve resorted to doing something illegal, just to eat. So, this is personal to me.” Saint looked at the men in the room, a small smile across his face as he touched his chest. Several of the men smiled back at him, their pain was similar based on circumstances and upbringings that overlapped, all due to whom they were attracted to.

“There are so many of us that were disowned by our parents because of who we were attracted to, who we loved. We lost friends, we were threatened, physically attacked and some of us even lost our lives. Loving vs. Virginia helped pave the way for us and all interracial couples. We just want to be left in peace. So, it’s really important that we get this up and running as soon as possible because every day, dozens of young people are kicked out of their house or ostracized because of this. They are getting their asses kicked and can’t go through an entire week without an incident happening, some sort of harassment. We shouldn’t have to apologize to anyone about our attraction or feel compelled to explain it. This, this is who we are. It makes us happy. We need it. It’s in us or we wouldn’t even be here, fighting. This is one of those cases where being in love hurts.”

Saint reflected over some past early teenage puppy love relationships. He could feel the sting once again, from angry mothers and fathers slamming their door in his face when he’d show up to take their Black daughter out. He recalled the painful memory of being with the girl he lost his virginity to. Her mother had walked into the girl’s bedroom and screamed at the top of her lungs. Not because of the sex act itself, but because she was ‘letting a Spic fuck her.’ He recalled how the girl, two years Saint’s senior at the age of sixteen, pulled up the sheets around her and said, “Mama, he isn’t a Spic, he’s half Asian and half Egyptian.” Her mother proceeded to curse him out and demand he leave.

Saint cared about that girl. He had been saving up money to buy her gifts, some of which he stole if he couldn’t afford a necklace or shirt he thought she would like. He chased her with all of his might, waiting for her after school, dreaming of her – infatuated with her curves, her toasty brown skin and shoulder-length, wavy hair. It seemed all the boys in school wanted her but her interest was in him. They would take the train together after a while. He thought he was falling in love. He did not understand the difference between infatuation and love quite yet. They had attempted to make love in the park one night but Saint was too nervous about being caught and was concerned about not having a condom. That night, he finger-fucked her – his first experience at that. He sucked her breasts and kissed her long and deep. She told him he was a natural, but he felt shy and was so nervous, he thought he would mess up and turn her off in some way.

After that time, he asked Raphael about condom usage, got a crash course, and was set for the next time he saw her. She was Saint’s first, and he would never forget her. He never forgot either about how being caught having sex with her daughter didn’t seem to bother her mother at all – it was his race that she focused on.

Saint cleared his throat and reverted to the matter at hand. “Back to the topic of Mr. Clayman though. I’m glad, James, that you’ve brought all this to our attention. Let’s try to help him and the other victims. We can do as we typically do, the way you trained us, to give our apologies for what he and his wife endured. After that, we can start our own investigation. This person needs to be caught. I’m sure he’ll keep on. This isn’t isolated. People that do things like this don’t strike once and then disappear into the background.”

“What about police involvement?” one of the Knights asked. “We need to try to get them re-involved.”

“Well, because of James’ position in government, he can’t personally go and say anything to the authorities – for the same reason he has to stay low-key at conferences and all of our other engagements and honestly, Stewart, I don’t think the police care from the information James gave us.”

James nodded in agreement as he took a sip of his water.

“I will help you all,” Saint continued. “I want to be more involved in this aspect versus just focusing on the conferences and my personal ventures. Speaking of conferences, it was also brought to my attention that some of you thought it may be wise to offer an all Queen one, once a year. James actually brought this up but I understand most of you seem to agree. I think this is an exceptional idea but I’m not sure I’m the right person to do this.”

“Why not?” James said. “You’re the perfect person to do it. You’ve been married now almost six years. You’ve been doing this for over a decade. You’re the perfect person to do this.”

Several of the other knights nodded in agreement.

“Well, I’m not a Queen, though, James.” Everyone laughed at Saint’s remark. “And I understand but they may benefit better if a Queen, an experienced Queen, like one of your wives, did it,” Saint offered.

“I think that could be beneficial, but I still think you should run it, Saint. We could have some Queens speak, my wife I’m sure would be obliged, but you still need to be a major component in it,” James said.

“What would this cover?” another man asked.

“From the information James gave me, it would cover her role from a girlfriend to a wife. It would go over how to deal with family members that are opposed to her dating a Rainbeau, from her side of the family as well as his. It would go over courtship, values and trying to stay positive. It would also cover sex and intimacy, what is expected of her, touch a bit about pregnancy with a biracial baby or multiracial baby as a result of that and how to attract a Rainbeau for those that are struggling to make any love connections.” Saint sighed. “Someone also needs to address with them the race concept actually being abstract. It’s not even real, as I’ve taught you all. There is no such thing as race and I think many Queens who are afraid need to hear this so they can move forward and follow their heart’s desires as well.”

“Well Saint, the last part you mentioned, including the intimacy portion, that’s your expertise, not ours,” one of the members noted.

Saint knew that if he took this on, it would take a lot of planning and more time away from his family. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with Xenia about it.

“OK, Saint,” James said as he stood up. “Please come have a seat. We will discuss this more later. Thank you for taking over while I caught my breath for a moment.”

Saint nodded and sat back down.

The next twenty-five minutes were spent going over the strategy for the Clayman case as well as ensuring funding for the two centers.

Saint went back to his office and sat down. He opened his laptop and strategized the direction he wanted to go for his next sex DVD where he’d be focusing on the art of kissing, as well as the upcoming conference to be held in Toronto, Canada.

Saint worked diligently into the evening. He rubbed his eyes and looked outside his window. Dusk had fallen and the lights from the expressway and 3D billboards shone brightly. He leaned back in his chair and yawned, stretching his legs under his desk as he put his hands behind his head.

“7:02PM – I better get home,” he muttered. Xenia would be pissed if he was late again. He was never late coming home, except in the past two months, when he could barely get home before eight. “This is getting old. I’m getting too wrapped up.” Saint stood up and grabbed his laptop, shoving it into the carrier bag. He walked out of his office into a lobby area with only the brightness from the green banker reception desk lamps to ease the darkness. As he went down the elevator, he thought contemplatively about taking Xenia out for a romantic dinner. He hadn’t taken her out for a nice meal in over two weeks. It was time they did this soon, like tomorrow.

Saint scratched his neck and watched as the lights highlighting each floor finally reached one. The doors opened, and he immediately heard the vacuums from the cleaning crew. He waved to the custodians and nodded at the security guard as he made his way out of the building. Saint dug in his pant pocket and pulled out his car keys. They clinked together against other keys and a keychain with ‘New York’ written in bright red letters against an ivory background. He noticed a tall silhouette from the corner of his eye. She moved towards him, her long, jet-black, bone-straight hair swinging just at her waist. Smooth, dark chocolate skin; high cheek bones; and slanted, alluring, dark brown eyes focused intensely on him as her white high heels and diamond anklet shone in the dusky early evening canvas.

“Hello, Saint,” she said as she placed her white clutch purse under her arm. Payton licked her full, glossy lips and batted her eyelashes as she slightly tilted her oval shaped face to the left, staring at him and undressing him with her eyes.

Saint looked at her and swallowed hard. He stopped in his tracks as she finished her approach. He could instantly smell the familiar scent of her allure, the perfume she customarily wore and her own natural aroma that used to intoxicate him on a daily basis.

“Well, well, hello Payton. What in the world are you doing in L.A.?” Saint asked smoothly, ensuring she would never know the shock he was feeling…